Mithril and Opals: The Desolation of Thorin Part 8: As The Raven Flies
by Denigoddess2001 aka Dion Ysia
Summary: Once one morning bright and shining, how I found my heart gently pining, Over memories held dearly of my eldest son whom I adored While I thought and was walking, I heard a soft and gentle knocking, From one who pecked upon a stake, I knew at once without mistake to make. "Merle returns," joy filled me, "returning to me with joyous lore, Perchance with news from Erebor." Rule 63.


Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings are copyrighted by Warner Brothers and the J.R.R. Tolkien estate. No infringement of these copyrights intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. I write this fan fiction only for love of the The Hobbit and not for profit.

Dross sat upon her mount, scanning the skies for any sign against the the morning sun for her hope in flight. In the distance, she heard a distinctive, throaty call that she recognized. On the horizon, she spotted a small black speck darting toward her and the rest of the caravan. As it drew closer, Dross mimicked it call, holding out her forearm until the large raven landed gently upon her. She stroked his head and the raven gave a throaty purr of pleasure as he nudged his feather brow into his mistress's hand.

"And I have missed you as well, Merle," Dross murmured to her old friend. She cocked her head a little to the left, spying the small white scrap of parchment attached to Merle's left leg. "I see you bring a message from Erebor. You made it to the mountain, didn't you?"

Merle gave a single nod accompanied by a prolonged caw.

Dross unrolled the miniature scroll, scanning it for several moments. Had she seen her expression, she would've chuckled at her blue eyes wide with excitement and the large grin, wide and sincere. "By Mahal, Thorin's finally done it. He has married."

The raven shook his head, peaking at the lower portion of the parchment, urging his mistress to read on. As she continued, her smile melted into a hard line and her brow furrowed with worry. "Thorn also suffers from the gold sickness or his wife fears that he may."

The secret to being one of the best wise women of Arda was not to give away one's secrets unless the situation called for it. It screamed in Dross's ears like the roar of a thunderstorm. She considered the time and distance that she still remained from Erebor, realizing that message by raven was the fastest means of delivering it. She and Merle entered her tent while the rest of the caravan were pulling up stakes for the morning and she decided to give that recipe to this young woman whom Thorin held most dear.

"Are you certain, Merle, that my son has married someone who will not use this for personal gain?"

Merle nodded, followed by an enthusiastic caw.

Dross contemplated her words, carefully choosing what she wrote to great her still unmet daughter-in-law. She thought it strange that Thorin's One was a Hobbit, but who would have thought that the bastard misfit of an Elven King and a human charlatan was the One of Thrain, King Under the Mountain? She chuckled at the thought as she took quill to parchment and penned her welcoming letter.

"To the most Your most esteemed Highness, Belladonna Baggins- Durin, Queen Consort of Erebor, Queen Under the Mountain, Lady of the Silver Fountains, Lady of the Shire, my most-welcome daughter-in-law, I bid you greetings.

May I take this opportunity, Belladonna, to welcome you into the House of Durin, one of the seven clans of Erebor. I happily anticipate our eventual meeting and formal introduction.

From what the courier tells me, you are a most guileless and intrepid young lady. You have managed to meet my son brow-to-brow and still remain standing. He is in need of the feminine touch and occasionally a boulder upside the temple to knock good sense into his thick brow.

To the matter at hand that you address in your letter: Thorin's subtly changing mindset as he nears Erebor. You have asked me for my most guarded secret that I have held in my heart for more than two centuries. To the Valar, I prayed that it never needed to be given to another Durinson. The Valar work in the Unknown ways and now, in your time of growing peril and need, I give this to you

Durin's Tincture

a cup of raw almonds  
a thumb-sized chip of Mithril  
a pinch of powdered Quenezite  
a drop of Erebor's Blood  
three crushed blue Queen's Poppy blooms  
2 full Kingsfoil sprouts  
a handful of Old Toby  
3 spoonfuls of honey  
1 tankard Dwarven ale

Mix all of the ingredients in mortar, grinding 100 times with a pestle into a paste before taking the mixture and stirring into the strongest ale for 24 hours. Let it sit in the light of the sun for a day and night to let the sun infuse properly into the ale. For extra sweetness to hide the bitter taste, you may add crushed cherries to sweeten it. Do not serve as the first drink at the evening meal, but wait until the fourth tankard as Dwarves are known for their hearty constitutions. By that time, said constitution will be duly impaired enough to not notice the the bitter taint to the ale. The effects begin within the hour and last a sennight, but must be repeated 4 times per the waning and waxing of the moon. This will keep the gold-sickness at bay, but this is not a permanent cure. None is known unless one wanders into the realm of Magic.

May the Valor be with you in your quest and your attempt to bring Thorin's sickness to heel.

Your most humble servant,

Dross Durin"

Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings are copyrighted by Warner Brothers and the J.R.R. Tolkien estate. No infringement of these copyrights intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. I write this fan fiction only for love of the The Hobbit and not for profit.

Dross sat upon her mount, scanning the skies for any sign against the the morning sun for her hope in flight. In the distance, she heard a distinctive, throaty call that she recognized. On the horizon, she spotted a small black speck darting toward her and the rest of the caravan. As it drew closer, Dross mimicked it call, holding out her forearm until the large raven landed gently upon her. She stroked his head and the raven gave a throaty purr of pleasure as he nudged his feather brow into his mistress's hand.

"And I have missed you as well, Merle," Dross murmured to her old friend. She cocked her head a little to the left, spying the small white scrap of parchment attached to Merle's left leg. "I see you bring a message from Erebor. You made it to the mountain, didn't you?"

Merle gave a single nod accompanied by a prolonged caw.

Dross unrolled the miniature scroll, scanning it for several moments. Had she seen her expression, she would've chuckled at her blue eyes wide with excitement and the large grin, wide and sincere. "By Mahal, Thorin's finally done it. He has married."

The raven shook his head, peaking at the lower portion of the parchment, urging his mistress to read on. As she continued, her smile melted into a hard line and her brow furrowed with worry. "Thorn also suffers from the gold sickness or his wife fears that he may."

The secret to being one of the best wise women of Arda was not to give away one's secrets unless the situation called for it. It screamed in Dross's ears like the roar of a thunderstorm. She considered the time and distance that she still remained from Erebor, realizing that message by raven was the fastest means of delivering it. She and Merle entered her tent while the rest of the caravan were pulling up stakes for the morning and she decided to give that recipe to this young woman whom Thorin held most dear.

"Are you certain, Merle, that my son has married someone who will not use this for personal gain?"

Merle nodded, followed by an enthusiastic caw.

Dross contemplated her words, carefully choosing what she wrote to great her still unmet daughter-in-law. She thought it strange that Thorin's One was a Hobbit, but who would have thought that the bastard misfit of an Elven King and a human charlatan was the One of Thrain, King Under the Mountain? She chuckled at the thought as she took quill to parchment and penned her welcoming letter.

 _ **"To the most Your most esteemed Highness, Belladonna Baggins- Durin, Queen Consort of Erebor, Queen Under the Mountain, Lady of the Silver Fountains, Lady of the Shire, my most-welcome daughter-in-law, I bid you greetings.**_

 _ **May I take this opportunity, Belladonna, to welcome you into the House of Durin, one of the seven clans of Erebor. I happily anticipate our eventual meeting and formal introduction.**_

 _ **From what the courier tells me, you are a most guileless and intrepid young lady. You have managed to meet my son brow-to-brow and still remain standing. He is in need of the feminine touch and occasionally a boulder upside the temple to knock good sense into his thick brow.**_

 _ **To the matter at hand that you address in your letter: Thorin's subtly changing mindset as he nears Erebor. You have asked me for my most guarded secret that I have held in my heart for more than two centuries. To the Valar, I prayed that it never needed to be given to another Durinson. The Valar work in the Unknown ways and now, in your time of growing peril and need, I give this to you**_

 _ **Durin's Tincture**_

 _ **a cup of raw almonds**_  
 _ **a thumb-sized chip of Mithril**_  
 _ **a pinch of powdered Quenezite**_  
 _ **a drop of Erebor's Blood**_  
 _ **three crushed blue Queen's Poppy blooms**_  
 _ **2 full Kingsfoil sprouts**_  
 _ **a handful of Old Toby**_  
 _ **3 spoonfuls of honey**_  
 _ **1 tankard Dwarven ale**_

 _ **Mix all of the ingredients in mortar, grinding 100 times with a pestle into a paste before taking the mixture and stirring into the strongest ale for 24 hours. Let it sit in the light of the sun for a day and night to let the sun infuse properly into the ale. For extra sweetness to hide the bitter taste, you may add crushed cherries to sweeten it. Do not serve as the first drink at the evening meal, but wait until the fourth tankard as Dwarves are known for their hearty constitutions. By that time, said constitution will be duly impaired enough to not notice the the bitter taint to the ale. The effects begin within the hour and last a sennight, but must be repeated 4 times per the waning and waxing of the moon. This will keep the gold-sickness at bay, but this is not a permanent cure. None is known unless one wanders into the realm of Magic.**_

 _ **May the Valor be with you in your quest and your attempt to bring Thorin's sickness to heel.**_

 _ **Your most humble servant,**_

 _ **Dross Durin"**_

She tied it to the raven's leg as she pressed a quick kiss to his head. "Be off with you and fly swiftly."

When Merle was no more than a dark fleck upon the horizon, Dross turned blue eyes skyward and sent silent prayers for Thorin and Bella for the dangers they still faced in their quest.

To Be Continued...


End file.
